Daughter of the Forsworn
by The Lady of the Mists
Summary: Another egg comes into the hands of a girl in Carvahall who is more than what she seems. Will she be destined to join Eragon in his fight against the King . . . or destroy him?
1. A Birth and A Death

**Daughter of the Forsworn**

by the Lady of the Mists

Chapter One: A Birth and A Death

Clutching her stomach as another contraction forced her to clamp her mouth shut to prevent from screaming in pain, a young woman rode through the forest, aware of the danger, both to her and to her unborn child. Eyes like daggers, she dared glance behind her, praying that her pursuers hadn't caught up to her just yet.

"You won't be getting her," she whispered in the ancient language. "This child does not belong to you."

But the baby was coming, faster than she had anticipated. The midwife had warned her about this, but she ignored her, not caring what had happened. She would rather lose another baby than see it grow up in the hands of its father.

After everything that had happened, it was impossible to think that he had betrayed her. In the end, he had betrayed her from the beginning. He was sworn to the very man who she had sworn to bring down. They were two very different people; she was aligned with light, he was dark.

She just prayed that her child would not turn out to be like its father. That would break her heart more than anything.

Crying out as another pain surged through her, the young woman whispered a protection spell around as she saw a cottage just ahead. Relief surged through her as she slowed to a stop, climbing off her horse.

"Go, ride on," she told the horse in the ancient language. "Don't worry about me; I'll be fine. Keep riding and don't stop, no matter what happens. Go!" The mare nickered as it obeyed, breaking into a canter again and leaving its pregnant mistress behind.

The young woman looked behind her and ducked behind the garden fence, keeping quiet as her pursuers gave chase, riding past her ignorantly, hunting the lone mare deeper into the woods . . . and leaving the young woman alone for the time being.

Taking deep breaths, the young woman struggled to her feet, using the fence to assist her as she made her way towards the house. "Help," she gasped weakly, pounding on the door as hard as she could.

"I'll be right there," a woman's voice called, but she could barely even hear her. The young woman could barely endure the pain, but she had to. She had to survive this . . . hadn't women being doing this for as long as there were stars in the sky? Surely, she could survive this . . . but then again, her child might be safer if she didn't.

"Good gods!" Mistress Margery exclaimed as she opened the door and found a pregnant young girl sitting outside her steps, clutching her stomach in pain. It only took the space of a heartbeat to realise what was wrong with the girl.

Calling for her husband, Margery directed him to move the girl to their room while she got the herbs that she needed for the birth. It was a long labour and a difficult delivery, one of the most difficult births that Margery had ever attended. And as the village midwife, she had attended many, _many_ births. But not one such as this.

Finally, just before daybreak on midwinter's eve, the young woman pushed her child into the world of Alagaesia. The child was a healthy baby girl, already with a mop of dark curls plastered onto her head. Her wide, green eyes stared up at Margery with interest as the midwife cleaned her off and handed her to her mother.

But the mother, unfortunately, was not doing as well as her daughter was. She could barely sit up to hold her child and her strength was weakening with every second.

"Easy, there, lass," Margery cautioned. "Don't use up all of your strength. It's all right. You're going to be all right."

"Here or going back, I'm dead, anyway," the young woman whispered, her voice faint. "Better here, for then at least, he can never get his hands on my child. She'll be safe." Her green eyes, the exact image of her child's, looked fiercely up at Margery. "Please . . . take care of my baby."

"Enough of that talk," Margery said firmly. "You're going to be fine." But she was trying to convince herself as well; the girl was getting weaker and weaker.

"Call—call her . . ." the young woman gasped, forcing the words out. She took a deep breath and managed to say, "Call her Muirgen. Let no harm come to her. He will come looking for her, but let no one find out that she was mine. She was _born_ to you, understand?"

Margery slowly nodded, taking the baby in her arms and looking down at the young woman, who was fumbling for something underneath her gown. She held out a necklace to Margery, who accepted the silver chain and pendant that she handed to her. "When she . . . she is old enough, give this to my daughter. One day, she will confront her heritage, her destiny. But she will have grown up away from his influence. I hope that will be enough to stop her from becoming as twisted and evil as he was. Never let him lay his hands on her, don't let him find out about her and claim her."

Margery nodded firmly. "Don't worry, lass," she assured the young woman. "We'll take care of your baby, me husband and I. She'll be safe with us. But who is the 'he' that will be coming after her?"

The young woman shook her head. "You—you will know when he comes. And he will come." She reached out her hand towards her daughter, placing a kiss on her forehead. And then she said something that Margery didn't understand, but recognised the language of the elves.

"My daughter," she whispered faintly, "good luck. And I pray that your destiny lies upon a different path than mine."

It was one of the worst things about being a midwife, Margery knew, was that she could do nothing about it as the young woman's life slipped away. Her hand was on the baby before it dropped away, her head leaning to the side, unable to support itself any longer.

As if sensing her mother's passing, Muirgen started wailing in Margery's arms, exhibiting soft, quiet sobs as Margery rocked her back and forth, soothing the child.

--

Niall looked up from his farming outside as his wife came outside with a baby in her arms. He frowned slightly as she came over to him. "What is this, woman?" he asked. Seeing the look on his wife's face, he realised, "The mother didn't make it?"

Margery sighed, sitting down on the bench as she held the child. "She didn't make it," she echoed. Niall frowned sympathetically, placing a gentle hand on his wife before looking at the child. "She's a pretty little girl, isn't she, Niall?"

"Oh, no," Niall warned. "Don't even go there, Margery. We have enough to do around here without having to raise a baby."

"I promised the mother." Niall dropped his stake and looked towards his wife, astonished. "She was afraid, so afraid for her safety. There is a danger for her, Niall. Some man . . . he'll be coming for her. I promised her mother that we would keep her from him."

"Why? If its the father—"

"It would be disastrous for us all if he laid a hand on her." Margery looked up at him, her grey eyes troubled. "I could see that in her eyes. If we don't do this, then it could very well doom us all."

Niall closed his eyes before retrieving his tool, choosing his words very carefully before he spoke. "Margery, my love, everyone knows that you were never pregnant. And there are some women in the village square who know that you _can't_ get pregnant."

"So, she'll be my sister's child," Margery responded. "Nobody knows about my family around here, Niall, and my sister and her husband passed away recently. It would make sense that their child would be sent to us to raise. Nobody would ever have to know."

Suppressing a sigh, Niall shook his head, looking at the baby. He had to admit that it would be a shame if somebody destroyed something so gentle and innocent. She was such a sweet little baby.

"Oh, all right!" he said with a sigh. "But Margery, you and I both know that the truth comes out in the end. One day, the girl will know who her mother really was . . . and who her father is. Whoever he is, she will find out the truth about him one day."

"I know, but that day is long in coming. And by then, she will be old enough to decide which path she wishes to take." Margery smiled as she stood up. "And now, it's time for her first meal."

Niall smiled at his wife as she carried the baby up to the house, no doubt preparing the milk that she gave mothers who couldn't produce milk on their own, or fathers whose wife had died in childbirth and there was no wet nurse for miles around.

But he had the feeling that this girl was going to grow up into a young woman who would either doom them all . . . or be their salvation.


	2. The Stone

**Daughter of the Forsworn**

by the Lady of the Mists

Chapter Two: The Stone

A small, dark haired girl stretched her fingers out as she plucked another apple from the tree that she was hanging at, adding it to her apron filled with the juicy fruit. The best apples were the ones that were at the top of this tree.

Granted, it was terribly difficult to get the apples at this height and in a dress, but Muirgen didn't care. She loved being high up, beyond the ground. There were times, if the wind was strong enough, she could imagine that she was flying.

"Muirgen!" a woman's voice called. "Muirgen, come on, girl! Hurry up with those apples! I need you to go to town, lass!"

"Coming, Aunt Margery!" Muirgen called. Holding on to her filled apron with one hand and the branch to support her balance with the other, she slowly but deftly climbed down, already knowing the tree well enough not to need to look down.

Once she had her feet planted firmly on the ground again, she poured the apples into the basket that was lying on the ground for her, picking it up and heading into the house, where her aunt was already preparing the evening meal.

"Here are the apples, Aunt," Muirgen said, placing the basket on the table. "Do you need me to help with the pies?"

"No, I need you to go to town," Margery answered, pulling a few coins out of the purse and handing them to her niece. "Your uncle has a friend coming over to dinner and I forgot to buy some pork when I was there earlier. So, if you could go to that for me, that would be a big help, lass."

"All right," Muirgen sighed. "Who's Uncle inviting over for dinner, anyway?" she asked.

"I'm not exactly sure, but your uncle was quite insist on it. Mind your manners when he's here, too," Margery added. Muirgen only grinned; both of them knew there was no need to warn Muirgen about her manners. So long as she kept a handle on her temper, she was on of the sweetest girl that lived in Carvahall.

"Now run along now. And don't dawdle, mind you. I need to get started on that dinner as soon as possible. It takes _hours_ to prepare." Margery scooted her niece out the door, handing Muirgen her shawl as she left.

Slipping her shawl around her shoulders, Muirgen walked the half-hour hike to town, a shiver heading up her spine as soon as she saw the soldiers that were standing there, seizing two boys that lived in town.

"My sons are not fighters!" their father Horst shouted, trying to intervene. "The men that you take, they never return!" His wife was sobbing on her husband's shoulders as their two boys were lead away.

"Every village must do its share," the soldier who was taking them away said indifferently. "Rejoice. Your sons will be heroes." Without another word, the two boys were taken away.

The soldier noticed Muirgen standing there, watching them, and glared at her. "On your way, wretch!" he snarled.

Her jaw tightened as she stared at him, green eyes narrowed in dislike, but moved along, sending a sympathetic look towards Horst and his wife as she walked past them, heading towards the butcher's shop. Sloan was the village butcher, but Muirgen couldn't stand him. She tried to avoid the man whenever she could.

Suppressing a sigh, she entered the butchery, spotting the butcher slicing up meat as she entered. "Afternoon, miss," Sloan said with a flirtatious smile towards her. "What can I do for you?"

"A pound of pork, if you please," Muirgen answered, ignoring the flirtations. _That_ was part of why she despised the man; he shouldn't be paying attention to girls who were young enough to be his daughter.

She waited patiently as Sloan got her order and she counted out his money, handing it to him as she placed the package in her basket, hurrying out the door before he could try and harass her, almost running into a boy on her way out.

"Excuse me," she said politely.

"No problem," he said, letting her pass. Muirgen looked back at him as he entered the butcher's shop, her green eyes meeting his blue ones. His golden hair hung casually into his handsome face and he smiled at her, making her heart flutter as she returned it.

As he disappeared into Sloan's, Muirgen started heading back towards her house, minding her aunt's orders to hurry along, but her thoughts were continuously on the golden haired boy that she'd run into. She wished that she'd at least found out his name.

_Daughter of Celandine. _

Stopping where she was, Muirgen looked back and forth, wondering where the voice had come from. "Hello?" she asked cautiously. She was well out of town by now and there was nobody there that she could see. "Hello, is—it somebody there?"

When no one spoke, Muirgen shook her head. "Maybe I really starting to lose it," she muttered, continuing on her way back to her house when she heard the voice again.

_Daughter of Celandine, come this way. _

Whirling around towards where she heard the voice, Muirgen saw the winds of the trees blow, beckoning her towards them. She hesitated, remembering her aunt's orders not to dawdle, but she shook her head, heading towards the trees.

_That's it, child. Come on, further in. Your destiny is about to unravel. Step closer, daughter of Celandine. There, that's good_, the voice said approvingly as she stepped into a clearing.

Muirgen looked around where she stood, but she didn't see anything. There was nothing that could even suggest being the owner of the voice that had drawn her here.

"What is _going _on?" she whispered. Who was Celandine? The voice had called her 'daughter of Celandine', but that couldn't be right. Her mother died a long time ago, right after she was born. Aunt Margery's sister's name had been Annabelle and her husband Marcus. Both of them had been killed in a raid by the Ra'zac sixteen years ago.

_No, daughter of Celandine. That isn't right. Your mother was someone far more important. And so are you. Now, it is time for you to find out just how much. _

The wind blew towards some bushes and she cautiously approached them, frowning slightly. "I'm definitely going crazy," she decided as she bent down, setting her basket aside as she reached inside the bushes, searching for something. Whatever it was that the voice was telling her to search for. She wasn't sure what it was, but she trusted the voice.

Muirgen didn't feel anything at first, but then her fingers brushed up against something cold and hard.

She froze as she touched it, but then reached further in, managing a firm grip on whatever it was.

_That's it, daughter of Celandine. That's it. _The voice was approving as she finally managed to wrench it out from the bushes and she blinked at the stone that had appeared in her hands.

It was considerably lighter than any stone that she had ever encountered, and much smoother. She slid her finger across it, amazed at its glassy surface. The stone was a silvery colour, sparkling in the sunlight, and had purple specks flecked across it.

_This belongs to you, daughter of Celandine. It is your destiny to possess it and everything that goes along with it. _

Somehow, Muirgen knew how to speak to them, without words. _But what goes along with it? Who are you? What are you? And—and what is this?_

_Everything will come out in the end, daughter of Celandine. By the way, your aunt is about to send your uncle out for you, so you'd better hurry home. _

Muirgen scowled as she stowed the stone into her basket, underneath the package of meat. "I wouldn't be late if you hadn't stopped me in the first place," she complained.

The voices emitted a sound that one might define as laughter, but other than that, they remained silent, allowing her to leave the woods behind and return to the road, picking up her pace so that it only took her a few minutes to get back home.

"There you are, lass." Margery looked up at her, pushing her greying hair out of her eyes as she looked at Muirgen. "What kept you?"

"I'm sorry, Aunt, I was . . . distracted," Muirgen apologised as she handed the package over to Margery. Her aunt only nodded, obviously too oblivious with her cooking to pay attention to Muirgen, which was a relief, because the stone was almost in sight. "I'll go put my stuff up in my room and then I'll be back to help."

"All right." Margery nodded and Muirgen hurried upstairs, stepping into the loft that served as her bedroom. Setting her basket next to her bed, Muirgen laid her shawl on a peg before looking back at the stone.

She would _love_ to inspect it some more, to find out what kind of magical secrets it held, but her aunt needed her help with dinner. And she knew that if her uncle had invited someone over for dinner, then she would be fretting over every little thing.

"Muirgen! Hurry up, lass!"

"Right on schedule," Muirgen smiled, getting to her feet. "Coming, Aunt Margery!" Taking one last look at the stone, she headed out of her bedroom, descending the stairs to help with dinner.


	3. Marriage Proposal

**Daughter of the Forsworn**

by the Lady of the Mists

Chapter Three: Marriage Proposal

After dinner had been prepared, Margery instructed her niece to go upstairs and put on her good dress and to do something with her hair. "There's some pins in my dresser that should help," she added. "Go, hurry up."

Once Muirgen had put on her blue gown that was only to be worn for special occasions, she went down to her aunt's room and opened the drawer that she had indicated, finding the silver pins. Glancing at her aunt's mirror, she deftly pulled her hair back away from her face, plaiting it carefully.

Pushing the last pin into place, Muirgen was about to close the dresser drawer when she saw a glint of silver from the corner of her eye. Pushing aside the shawls, Muirgen found a silver necklace in the drawer.

Picking it up, she inspected it carefully, turning it over in her hands. The silver pendant had an ancient symbol on it that Muirgen felt like she knew, but couldn't remember where from. And the chain . . . it was so fine that it felt as though it would come apart in her hands, but was much stronger. She doubted that the strongest man in Alagaesia would have been able to break it if he tried.

"Muirgen, what are you—" Margery stopped in the doorway when she saw her niece, but her eyes fell on the necklace that was in her hands. "Oh, dear."

"Aunt Margery, what is this?" Muirgen asked, holding it out to her. "It's _beautiful_. Where did you get it?" It was only then that she noticed the fearful look in her aunt's eyes. "What's wrong, Aunt?"

Margery walked briskly towards her, pulling the necklace out of her hands and pushing it back into the drawer, closing it. "Listen to me, Muirgen, tell no one about this. Say not a word to your uncle. I will explain everything later, but for now, just keep quiet about it."

"But why—"

"Shh!" Margery placed a finger to her lips. "There's no time to explain now, but I will tell you later. Hush, child," she added when Muirgen opened her mouth to speak. "Not a word."

"Aunt Margery, where did you get it?" Muirgen insisted. "Why is locked up so tightly?"

"I got it from your mother." Margery's voice was quiet. "And it was to be given to you when you were ready for it. Now that you've found it, I suppose that it's time for you to learn the truth. But after dinner. After your uncle and his friend leaves, it will be time."

Muirgen sighed, but relented, following her aunt out into the kitchen and setting the table, all the while she was bursting with questions to ask. In all of her sixteen years, never once had her aunt ever mentioned her mother. Even though she her been her sister, Margery didn't like to talk about her. The memories were too painful, she supposed.

It was almost dusk by the time that her uncle finally returned home, calling out as soon as he got there. "I'm home! Where are my girls?"

"In the kitchen, Niall!" Margery responded as she came out of the kitchen, greeting her husband. "And I suppose this is Lord Connor?"

"At your service, madam," a gruff voice sounded from the entryway. "I'm so please that you could have me over tonight."

"The pleasure is all ours, Lord Connor," Margery said as Muirgen came out of the kitchen. "Oh, and this is our niece Muirgen. Darling, this is Lord Connor. He'll be dining with us this evening." She smiled as Muirgen curtsied before him.

"It's a pleasure, sir." The man was inspecting her carefully, a hungry smile crossing his face.

She didn't like the look on his face at all.

--

Muirgen was washing the dishes later while her aunt and uncle were talking with Lord Connor. Throughout the entire meal, his cold eyes had never left her. She had the distinct feeling that he knew something about her, something that she herself didn't.

"I have to confess to you the real reason why I came here to Carvahall tonight, Niall," she heard Lord Connor say. Edging closing to the door, she peered into the dining room. "You see, my lady wife passed away some years ago and the child that she bore me died along with her."

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," Margery said sympathetically. "It's a terrible loss, to lose your wife and child at the same time."

"Thank you, madam, but my sorrows have long since passed." The tone in his voice indicated no remorse whatsoever about the loss of his family. All Muirgen could detect was coldness. "The point is that I have no heir to which to pass my estates to. And I would rather rot in prison than let them go to my brother's illegitimate brat."

"I'm afraid that I . . . don't quite understand why you're telling us this, Lord Connor," Niall admitted, scratching his beard.

Lord Connor got to his feet, walking towards the door and closed it tightly so that Muirgen could no longer see what was going on. She scowled, listening carefully. "I need a child to inherit my estates," he answered. "And I will not suffer my brother's mistake and have an illegitimate one take my place. So . . . I will need a wife." There was a short pause before he continued, "That was my intention in coming here, to select a partner among the young ladies in Carvahall. And I must say that I was quite taken with your young niece."

Muirgen wanted to scream at her aunt and uncle's silence, and had to bite her lip to keep herself from doing so. How could they just say nothing? How could they—

"My lord, I think you may be overestimating our niece's maturity," Margery said at long last. "She is not yet sixteen."

"Exactly my point," Lord Connor said smoothly. "She is almost out of marriageable years. You have been most unwise to let her stay here and not present her to society. A lovely girl like that . . . why, it's amazing that she is not wed already."

"She is just a child," Margery argued. "And besides, marriage was never up to us to decide for her. It was always up to her."

"Was it really? That was a most foolish decision, my dear woman. Girls can never be trusted with such a decision. They get these . . . romantic ideas into their heads about love. I daresay that your niece would refuse to marry unless it was for love unless you pushed her to it."

"But we are not her parents," Margery pointed out. "If we were, then perhaps it would be different. Her parents were killed just after she was born and . . . well, it isn't _our_ decision to make."

"Perhaps, but like I said, I need a wife. And your little shop in the village isn't doing as well as you would like, is it, Niall?" Muirgen could hear the smugness in it. "With me as benefactor, you would have as much as you would like. I only need your niece's hand in order to assure that for you."

"I'm sorry, my lord, but like we said, it is Muirgen's decision. She'll tell you what her answer is. And I have a feeling I know what her answer will be." Margery's voice was firm.

"Margery," Niall said quietly. He sounded desperate. "We do need the money rather badly. Lord Connor is right. We'll deliver Muirgen your decree and see what she decides. Nothing has to be determined tonight. Surely we can give her some time to think it over and make a sound judgement."

There was a long pause. "I'm glad that you can see things my way, Niall. And you're right; we can spare a few days, but I mean to have her answer by week's end. After that, we need to start planning for the wedding." He sounded so sure of her answer that Muirgen wanted to vomit. "I'll see myself out."

Muirgen took a deep breath as the door opened and closed and Muirgen could hear the sound of galloping as Lord Connor took off into the night.

"Don't even go there, Niall," Margery snapped. "Muirgen, come out here, girl, I know you've been listening."

Making a face, Muirgen pushed the door opened and walked back into the dining room. "You don't miss anything, do you?"

"Darling, I _raised_ you, of course I don't miss anything," Margery responded. "Now . . ." She looked at her husband sharply. "How could have possibly said that to him, Niall? You know perfectly well that he isn't going to stop pursuing Muirgen until she gives into marriage now."

"Exactly the point, she'll have to say yes now," Niall retorted, his eyes flashing towards his niece. "You were the one who wanted to raise the girl, Margery, not me. And I am not going to continue to have her under this roof for much longer. She should have been married by now. This may very well be the only request she may ever get. Certainly, she won't get any offers from Carvahall."

Muirgen's green eyes flashed at her uncle. "I have one word for you, Uncle: no. I am not going to marry Lord Connor and there isn't anything that you can do or say that is going to convince me."

"Have you no respect for the people who raise you? Have we not given you a place to say for these sixteen years, given you the food off of our table? You will do as I say, girl!"

"Never!" Muirgen stormed out of the room, climbing the stairs until she was in her room. Closing the door behind her, she climbed onto the bed, curling up into a ball as she listened to her aunt and uncle shouting downstairs, trying to ignore their raised voices.

"I want to get away from here before I'm married," she whispered. "I want to have grand adventures and soar the skies before I can settle down. And . . . I need to know who _I_ am before I can become a wife. There is still so many more adventures left waiting for me. I know it . . ." Her gaze fell on her basket, where the silver stone was gleaming from the moonlight. "There's a destiny that is still waiting for me," she whispered.


	4. Muirgen's Destiny

**Daughter of the Forsworn**

by the Lady of the Mists

Chapter Four: Muirgen's Destiny

Muirgen was sitting by her window, leaning her head against the wood as she stared out into the moonlit field as a knock came on her door. Her aunt poked her head in as Muirgen looked around and Margery smiled slightly at her. "Are you calm enough to talk?"

"Not about Lord Connor," she responded. "I'm sorry, Aunt, I love you and Uncle Niall both, but I can't marry him."

"Hmm, your uncle will be furious about that as well," Margery said with a small smile. "I doubt that he'll ever forgive you if you don't . . . but I will never forgive you if you _do_." Muirgen looked up and saw her aunt was smiling. "Now come on," she ordered, sitting down on the bed. "We need to talk."

"About?"

"I think that you know what about," Margery answered. It was only then that Muirgen noticed that she had the silver necklace in her hands. Getting to her feet, she joined her aunt on the bed. "Now, like I said earlier, your mother wanted you to have this when you were old enough to have it. 'When she is old enough, give this to my daughter,' she told me. 'One day, she will confront her destiny, her heritage.' I'll never forget the look in her eyes when she said that. Oh, she loved you so much," Margery said, pushing Muirgen's hair behind her.

"My mother wasn't Annabelle, was she?" Muirgen asked. "It was never your sister that was my mother."

Margery sighed. "It was the perfect ruse, Muirgen. My sister had just died with her husband and your mother wanted to protect you at all costs. You see, I found her outside our home, in labour. She barely made it to our door before she collapsed. It was a long night, one of the longest labours that I've ever encountered, and a difficult delivery.

"It was a just before daybreak when you finally appeared. Your mother had lost a great deal of blood and her strength was just about gone. But above everything else, she wanted was to keep you safe. She gave this to me for safekeeping until you were ready."

"She died?" Muirgen whispered, looking down at the silver necklace that Margery had given her. "My mother?"

Margery nodded miserably. "She only lived long enough to name you, and to warn me about some man that would be coming after you. All she told me was that some evil would be coming after you and I would know when he did. She made me swear to never let him lay a hand on you, to never let him find out about you. I don't know what evil it was that was to come after you, but she made it clear that you were in very real danger from him."

"Do you think . . . she meant the King?"

"I don't know what she meant, but whatever it was, it was very real. The pain and desperation was clear in her eyes. She hoped that by being raised far away from him, you would be safe."

Muirgen closed her eyes. "What was my mother's name?" she asked, remembering the voices that she had heard earlier. She opened her green eyes again and looked at Margery. "My real mother's, I mean?"

"I don't know; she never told us. But I managed to translate the letters on the back of the necklace there," Margery said, tapping the silver pendant in Muirgen's hands. Turning it over, Muirgen saw there was some kind of ancient lettering on the back of the necklace. "It said 'Celandine' on it." Muirgen's head snapped up. "I don't know if that was your mother's name or not, but I'd say that it was a pretty good guess."

"Celandine . . ." Muirgen whispered. "Daughter of Celandine." She closed her eyes, finally understanding why the voices had called her that.

"I'm sorry that I hid this from you, lass, but your mother made it clear that you were in danger and she made me swear to protect you at all costs. But I think that it is time for you to confront whatever destiny your mother knew that you would face. There is something bigger out there than to just be a little wife or poor girl from Carvahall. You were born for something much bigger than that."

"But what?" Muirgen asked her. "What did my mother want to keep me from? And what about my father? What about him?"

Margery shook her head. "I'm sorry, darling, but your mother never told me anything about him." She looked truly sympathetic.

But somehow Muirgen didn't care; she had the feeling inside of her that the knowledge was only going to cause her heartache. "It's all right. I didn't really want to know, anyway."

"Yet, you may find out one day," Margery sighed. "Destiny always has a way of telling you things that you _don't_ want to know." She smiled at her niece. "I love you, lass, even if you weren't my niece. If you had been my daughter, I couldn't have loved you more. It was good to have another woman here. Now, try and get some sleep, all right?"

"All right," Muirgen sighed as her aunt headed out the door. "Aunt Margery?" Her aunt stopped and looked at her questioningly. "No matter what, I do love you and Uncle. You were my parents, in every sense of the word. And I will always think of you with fond memories."

"I don't know where you plan on going, but I'd advice leaving soon, before you uncle tries to get another marriage proposal in for you," Margery warned her. "Good night, darling."

She smiled and left the room, leaving Muirgen alone with her very disturbed thoughts.

--

Muirgen awoke very suddenly in the night. Wondering what had caused her abrupt awakening, she opened her eyes very carefully, in case there was an intruder in the room. But she didn't sense another being in the room and when she opened her eyes, there was no one in sight.

Sitting up in her bed, Muirgen pushed her sheets aside, looking around carefully as she climbed out of bed, pulling her shawl around her.

Without warning, she heard a squeak and she whirled around towards the sound, trying to figure out where it had come from. "What in the name of Alagaesia . . .?" she muttered, rubbing her hands over her tired eyes. It had been a long day and she wanted to get some sleep.

When the squeak came again, her eyes fell on the silver stone that lay in her basket by the window, gleaming in the moonlight. Hesitantly, she walked over to it, kneeling down beside the stone, frowning.

No doubt about it; the stone was what had woken her up. She jumped back as it gave a particularly loud squeak.

She pushed herself back as a crack appeared on the stone, grabbing a knife from underneath her pillow and yanking it from its sheath as she scrambled to her feet, ready to defend herself if need be. Her breath caught as the stone because to rock back and forth, bouncing itself in the basket.

Watching in fascination, Muirgen was unable to tear her gaze from the stone as it made several large cracks in the shell. The few minutes felt like hours as something oddly shaped pushed its way out of the stone, emitting an odd purring sound as it looked up at Muirgen.

"Merciful gods!" she breathed, lowering her knife and kneeling down beside what remain of the stone. "A dragon!"

The dragon was a beautiful silver colour, the same colour as the stone that it had been encased in. Not a stone, rather, but an egg. It had the same purple specks that had been flecked across its egg speckled across its body. The eyes that stared interestedly up at Muirgen were a deep purple.

"Hello, there," Muirgen said softly, edging closer to the dragon. A smile spread across her face as she reached towards it. "Easy," she said gently as it backed away, uncertain. "Easy. It's all right. I'm a friend."

It gave the same purring sound that it had given before and allowed her to move closer, still reaching towards him. As her palm touched its skin, a sharp pain exploded from it, tearing through every part of her body. Muirgen tried to pull away, tried to scream, to even so much as move, but her body wouldn't answer her commands.

Finally, it was over and Muirgen was left lying on her back, gasping for breath as she stared at the dragon. It only gave her a mysterious look before scurrying around her room, curious.

Muirgen slowly pushed herself to her feet, still breathing faster than usual. Was that _normal_? she thought incredulously as she fixed her gaze on the dragon. It was only humming to itself in delight as it went back to Muirgen, purring contentedly.

She was about to flinch away, afraid that the pain would explode again, when it touched her arm, rubbing it reassuringly. Muirgen frowned, reaching out and stroking the dragon tenderly as it purred. A relieved smile broke out across her face as no pain exploded.

Letting out a small laugh, Muirgen allowed the dragon to climb into her lap, yawning tiredly. _Why, it's only a baby, _she realised as it curled up and was asleep in just a few minutes.

As she leaned across the wall, stroking her dragon tenderly, Muirgen could've sworn she'd heard the voices say, _Well done, daughter of Celandine. Now, your journey is about to begin. _

Muirgen looked up at the sound of the voices, still wary of them, as her dragon opened one eye, apparently having heard the voices too. Well, at least she wasn't imagining them. That, at least, provided _some_ comfort.

Getting to its feet, it growled slightly and then pounced as a rat scampered across the floor. Muirgen winced slightly as the dragon swallowed the rat whole. "Well, at least I know it can get its own food," she muttered with a small smile.

Her green eyes looked around as the sounds of her uncle leaving emerged from downstairs. Getting to her feet, she walked over to the window, looking out as Niall climbed onto his horse and headed out into town, ready to start the day.

He didn't look up as his niece looked out into the horizon. Her dragon walked over to her, rubbing her ankles as though to comfort her. Muirgen looked down at her dragon before looking back at her uncle for a moment, recalling his words from the previous evening.

"When you're old enough, we're going to be leaving here," she told her dragon. "We'll wait until you're big enough, then we'll leave here. Maybe get out of Alagaesia, what do you think about that?" She chuckled as the dragon emitted a cheerful note. "Well, first things first; we're going to have to give you a name." But what did one give a dragon? she wondered as she sat down beside her dragon.

She cast her mind through names, both boy and girl, uncertain what gender the dragon was. Naming off a couple boy names, it seemed to like none of these, but she had the feeling that it was a male dragon.

Suddenly, she thought of a name that she had particularly from stories that Brom, the storyteller in Carvahall had told. It was the story of a young dragon that had fallen in battle and its Rider had picked up his sword to defend his dragon.

"Are you . . . Diathí?" she asked him. It looked up at her and considered before emitting a cheerful purring, seeming to be giving her an affirmation. She smiled broadly. "All right, Diathí it is," she laughed.

Diathí only purred louder as he scurried around the room. But Muirgen had no idea of knowing that there was another Rider appearing at that very moment, not even five miles away, on the other side of Carvahall. And she knew ever less that their fates were entwined by their destiny.


	5. Dragon Rider

**Daughter of the Forsworn**

by the Lady of the Mists

Chapter Five: Dragon Rider

When Muirgen woke the next morning, she thought that the previous night had been a dream. As she started to wake up, she dropped her shoulders in disappointment, certain that everything that had happened was just a figment of her imagination. _And it was such a nice dream,_ she thought wistfully as she curled up further into her bed.

Something poked her arm and she moved away, thinking it was Aunt Margery come to wake her. _Muirgen. _

"I'm getting up, Aunt Margery," she mumbled, not opening her eyes. When she said nothing, but continued to poke her, Muirgen move away again, trying to stop her.

_Muirgen!_

"What?" Her eyes flew open as she sat up straight, about to pull away from her aunt's poking when she saw the silver dragon that was next to her, enjoying using the most annoying wake-up calls that anyone had invented.

Staring at Diathí, Muirgen's green eyes flickered around the room before returning her gaze to the dragon. She smiled, reaching out stretching her fingers out towards him when she noticed the scar that had appeared on the palm of her hand.

Inspecting her hand more closely, Muirgen looked accusingly towards her dragon. "What did you do?"

_Nothing,_ Diathí said cheerfully, his purple eyes gleaming in amusement. Muirgen rolled her eyes, not sure whether to be glad or annoyed that he was talking to her now. Getting to her feet, she tried to rub the cramps that she had suffered during the night out of her legs and arms.

"All right, I'm going to have to go down and help Aunt Margery," she told Diathí. "Try and stay out of trouble, won't you?" She hurried out the door, closing it firmly behind her. "I don't know how I'm ever going to explain this one," she mumbled as she wandered downstairs.

"Good morning, Aunt," she said as she headed into the kitchen. Margery was mixing together a batch of potions.

"Good morning," Margery answered. "These are for Abigail down the street," she said to Muirgen's questioning look. "She just had her baby and she's still a bit weak. I'm going to bring these to her and be right back. There's some porridge on the fireplace," she added, nodding to the pot that was sitting on the fire.

Muirgen waited until her aunt was gone before eating a quick bowl of porriage. When she had finished, she checked the cupboard and fished out some pieces of meat for her dragon. As she cut them up, Diathí swallowed them almost as soon as she was finished cutting them.

As she stayed with Diathí, she stared down at the palm of her hand, inspecting the symbol that had appeared there. Suddenly, it struck her that she had seen this symbol before.

Fishing out the necklace that had belonged to her mother, Muirgen stared down at the symbol that was on it before looking towards her palm. Looking back and forth, she realised that they were the same symbol. "But why would . . .?" she mumbled, rubbing her forehead.

She sighed as Diathí, sensing her distress, rubbed her arm. "I don't understand this," she muttered. "Why would my mother have a necklace with this particular symbol on it. I don't even understand what this means," she added, holding up her scarred palm.

_It's the symbol of the Dragon Riders,_ Diathí replied. _You wear it now because you are _my_ Rider. There's another one, you know,_ he added wickedly. _Another dragon and a Rider have appeared. _A picture began to form in her mind, of a golden haired boy and a sapphire blue dragon.

Instantly, she recognised him as the boy from the other day. "They're here in Carvahall," she muttered.

_Yes, daughter of Celandine. _It was not Diathí who spoke now, but rather the voices that were starting to haunt her. _Yes, the other Dragon Rider is here and you must seek him out. Your destiny and his lie upon similar paths. The son of Selena and the daughter of Celandine will fight together. They will ride together, as their dragons shall._

--

Muirgen watched Diathí as he poked around the forest that she had taken him to. It was just too risky with her uncle going around all the time. In the three months since he had hatched, he had grown at a rapid speed, almost reaching her own height, which wasn't much.

"Where did your mother go, Diathí?" she asked suddenly, thinking of Celandine. "Did she die, too?"

_No. _

"Mine did. Giving birth to me. Only I just found all of this out, the night that you hatched. Aunt Margery said that she wanted to keep me safe from someone, something . . . but how am I supposed to know who or what she was keeping me safe from if I don't know what it was?" Muirgen sighed as she leaned back in frustration. "What's worse than facing something that you don't know what you're fighting?"

_Facing your worst fears, _Diathí said wisely. _Facing something so dreadful that it will consume you until there is nothing left but an empty shell, barely holding on to life. That is something much worse. _

Muirgen sighed, running her hands through her dark curls as she stared up at the sky. "We're going to be leaving soon, you know?" she said softly. Diathí's purple eyes looked at her. "I can't stay here; it's too dangerous and besides . . . I think that there's something else out there, waiting for me."

_How could you expect anything less? _Diathí's response was taunting. _You are a Dragon Rider, after all. Did you honestly believe that with that little mark on your hand, you could be destined for anything other than greatness? The only thing that is waiting is for you to take the first steps into your new destiny. _

_I know._ Muirgen spoke these words not aloud, but through their telepathic link. _But I just don't want to leave. If I go . . . Aunt Margery will be all along. This won't be home anymore. _

_It never was. You were always looking towards the horizon, expecting something more, weren't you? No one who does that is ever going to be satisfied with the things that surround them. They need to find the course of their own destiny, to find what path fate has set them on. The question is what are you waiting for? Why wait? _

Muirgen smiled dryly, reaching out and stroking her dragon. _I don't know, _she admitted. _I guess I just need—_

A shout emerged from the distance, towards her house, and Muirgen's head snapped towards the sound, scrambling to her feet. "Diathí, stay here!" she ordered, racing towards the direction. "It's too dangerous, please, just stay here!"

_It is no more dangerous for me than it is for you,_ Diathí responded, taking flight beside her. _My place is with you, my Rider. _

Muirgen sensed that he knew what was happening, but also knew that they were already going to be too late. Tears of rage and fear sprung into her eyes as she picked up speed, racing towards her house.

"Aunt Margery!" she shouted when she saw the ruined house. "Uncle Niall!" _Oh, please, merciful gods, don't let it be. _

With a grunt, she pushed against the door and spilled into the house, taking the door down with her. Groaning slightly, Muirgen looked up around her, taking in the dishevelled wreck that lay in front of her. Everything had been hacked to pieces; the furniture lay askew, nothing in the right place. And worse . . . underneath a pile of debris, she could see the hand of a woman.

"No!" she shouted, pushing her way through the debris in order to get to her. "Aunt Margery!"

Shoving the debris off of her, she tried to rouse her aunt, to no avail. "Come on, Aunt Margery, get up!" she begged, desperate, but the woman's limp body only hung loosely in her arms. "Breathe, Aunt Margery, please, come on," she whispered. Letting out a soft sob, she buried her head into her aunt's chest. "No . . . no . . . please . . ."

Diathí appeared in the doorway. _Muirgen, we must go,_ he told her. _They will be back. It's not her that they were after; it's you. You and the other Rider._

Muirgen looked tearfully up at him, laying her aunt's dead body onto the ground just as footsteps approached. Diathí let out a low growl as Muirgen scrambled to her feet, about to attack the man who approached when she froze, staring at her uncle.

Niall stared at his wife's dead body before moving his gaze over to his niece accusingly. "What have you done?" he demanded, moving and pushing her away from Margery. His eyes caught sight of the dragon that stood behind his Rider and then he grabbed her arm, staring at the palm of her hand. "You?" he said, shaking his head.

"Uncle . . ." Muirgen began, but Niall moved too fast for her to even suspect an attack. He grabbed hold of her and placed a knife at her throat, making her freeze on the spot.

"Move, dragon, even breathe, and she's dead," Niall warned. Muirgen could feel her heart hammering in her chest, could hear it in her ears as it pounded. "This should fetch and pretty heavy price for the King, don't you think? A Rider . . . and her dragon."

Diathí made a growling noise at Niall, but then Muirgen sensed another being approach and then a sick thudding sound emerged from close by. Niall let out an exclamation and his hold on Muirgen tightened as he collapsed onto the ground, pulling her down with him.

_Muirgen!_ Diathí shouted, but someone was already pulling her up and she tried to pull free.

"Enough, girl!" the man holding her snapped. "Do you want to bring the entire empire down upon us! Shut that dragon of yours," he added as Diathí continued to growl threateningly at her. "I mean her no harm."

"Brom?" she asked wonderingly, staring at the storyteller from the village. He only nodded, steering her away from her aunt and uncle, out of the house. Diathí was still watching him suspiciously. "Did you kill him?" she whispered, looking back at her uncle.

"What does it matter? He meant to turn you into the empire and then you'll be no use to anybody dead," Brom snapped. Muirgen stared at him, almost afraid, and then she saw the same boy she'd met about a few months ago on a horse. "Get on behind Eragon. Now!" he ordered when she hesitated.

The boy—Eragon—helped her climb onto the horse. "Fly ahead of us," Brom ordered Diathí, who looked at his Rider.

"Do as he says." _For now. _

_Very well. _Diathí spread his silver wings and took to the sky, looking back at his Rider as the three figures took off into the sunset, rain coming down onto them. Muirgen slipped her hands around Eragon's waist to hold on, trying to hold back tears of anger, rage, sorrow, and betrayal.


	6. Warning and Secrets

**Daughter of the Forsworn**

by the Lady of the Mists

Chapter Six: Warning and Secrets

Muirgen kept silent the entire way as Brom and Eragon were riding through the great forest. She could still see her aunt's dead body lying in front of her and her uncle attacking her with a knife. Tears sprung into her eyes as she thought about it. In her entire life, Niall had never once laid a hand on her, even in discipline. He had ignored her most of her life, had rarely paid attention to her, but he had never once hit her. A knife went beyond that.

She had told her aunt that she would always think of her and Niall with fond memories and that they were her parents, in every sense of the word. But how could she believe that now? Margery was dead, just like her birth mother, and her uncle . . . Niall had tried to kill her, to turn her over to the empire and the King.

_The only mother that I've ever really known is dead,_ Muirgen thought miserably, _and the only father that I've ever known tried to kill me. Things are never going to be the same again. _

Eragon looked at her over his shoulder. "Are you all right?" he asked softly. Brom, who was riding ahead, didn't hear them.

Muirgen nodded mutely, tucking a piece of her dark hair behind her ear. "I think so," she answered. "I don't know. It's just . . . I can't really think straight right now. Everything has happened so quickly and . . ." She sighed. "I'm not sure where to go."

He gave a weak smile and nodded. "I know," he agreed. "My uncle was killed, too. Brom came and got me and we were on our way away from Carvahall when he suddenly said that we needed to come back for you. I don't know why he knew, but he did." He paused. "I'm Eragon."

"Muirgen," she answered with a weak smile. Her smile slipped when she caught sight of his hand as it collected the reigns, fastening on the symbol that appeared on there. Swindling her head to look at him, she asked, "You're a Rider?"

"My dragon's somewhere around here," Eragon said by way of explanation. "Her name is Saphira."

Thinking back to the day that she had first laid eyes on him, the same day that she had found Diathí's egg, she shook her head. Since that day, she had become a Rider, her uncle had tried to force her into a marriage that she didn't want, she had found out about her birth mother, her aunt had been killed and her uncle had tried to kill _her_.

"Where are we going, anyway?" she asked suddenly, glancing ahead as Brom slowed to a stop.

Eragon shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine," he responded. Night had started to descend on the horizon and it looked like they were starting to make camp.

"Where's that overgrown lizard of yours, girl?" Brom asked as Eragon helped her climb down from the horse.

Muirgen felt her skin prickle as his hand touched hers. Automatically, her heart started beating faster than its usual rate. He smiled at her, his blue eyes focused on her green ones.

"I don't know where he is," Muirgen answered Brom. She looked around for Diathí, but no silver streak lit the sky. "Don't worry, Diathí always knows when to find me. He's never not come whenever I needed him before." She held her gaze stubbornly as Brom scowled.

"You're very calm about the well-being of your dragon, young lady," he reprimanded. He paused. "Diathí, is it? Adequate for a young dragon. It means "swift," you know."

Muirgen smiled dryly. "Oh, I know. And the name is Muirgen, by the way. Not girl or young lady. Muirgen."

Brom shook his head, obviously annoyed with her correction. "I know that, girl. Now, call for your dragon, both of you. It's going to be a long journey until we reach the Beor Mountains. We're going to need our rest." He sighed. "It's been a long day."

"It's _Muirgen,_" she grumbled, green eyes blazing at the old man. She suppressed a sigh as she cast her eyes towards the sky. _Diathí, where are you? Can you find us? _

_I'm on my way, _the reply came. Muirgen looked up as she saw a sapphire blue dragon starting to make her approach down towards them, followed by her own silver one.

Muirgen looked at Eragon. "I take it this is Saphira?" she asked curiously. The blond Rider nodded as she bowed courteously to Saphira, not knowing what else to do. She could sense amusement, but approval from both dragons. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Saphira."

_It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Dragon Rider, _Saphira's mind touched hers the way that Diathí could, but it was different than the way that she spoke with her own dragon. Muirgen couldn't exactly explain it, but it _felt_ different than the way that she spoke with Diathí. _Saphira_ felt different than the silver dragon._ Diathí has spoken to me about you. He's very fond of you. Although from the way that he spoke, I was expecting someone a little taller. _

Making a face at the reference of her short height, Muirgen shook her head. _Well, I'm glad he's fond of me, because I am of him, too. _Shaking her head, she looked at the silver dragon, who was very amused by this conversation. _What exactly have you been telling her about me? _

_Nothing,_ Diathí said innocently. Muirgen shook her head, not believing him for a second, as she moved to go help Brom with the stew that he was making.

She shifted uncomfortably when she felt Eragon's blue gaze on her, but when she turned around to look at him, she saw that he had turned quickly away, removing his gaze from her.

_What are you looking at? _Diathí said slyly. Muirgen glared at him, her cheeks flushing furiously, but turned around back around.

_Nothing,_ she replied, mimicking his tone when she'd asked him what he'd told Saphira about her. _Absolutely nothing. _

--

_Daughter of Celandine. _

Muirgen's eyelids fluttered open when she heard the soft voices that had let her to Diathí's egg. With a groan, she pushed herself upward, looking around at the campsite, where Eragon and Brom were still lying asleep. Diathí and Saphira were both on the ground, their snoring almost loud enough to knock down the trees around them.

"All right," she muttered, annoyed with the voices. "I'm up. What do you want?" She didn't really want to hear them anymore; apart from them leading her to Diathí's egg, they hadn't been much help. They couldn't have warned her about what would happen with Aunt Margery or that Uncle Niall was going to try and kill her. Besides, she didn't want to listen to anybody who didn't have the decency to tell her who they were.

_You must leave immediately, daughter of Celandine. Danger is lurking near you. Rise the storyteller and the son of Selena. You must all leave immediately, before everything you wish to accomplish falls to ruin. _

_I don't understand. Who are you, anyway? _What_ are you? _Muirgen looked around for the source of the voices, but they had grown still and silent.

Silently cursing them, Muirgen scrambled to her feet, going over to the men and shaking them both awake. "We have to go," she said hurriedly. Diathí's head rose as she spoke and he regarded her worriedly. Brom grumbled in his sleep, trying to divert her attempts to rouse him. "We have to go _now_."

"Muirgen, what's going on?" Eragon asked sleepily, opening one blue eye to look at her.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully. "But we have to get out of here before it's too late."

Something in her voice must've told him that they didn't have much time, because in five minutes, Brom had been successfully roused and they were safely away. Neither one of them made any questions or comments about her warnings until midday, when they had stopped for lunch.

Brom came over to her and Eragon, his face grave as he regarded Muirgen. "I think you should see this, girl," he said, motioning her to follow him. Muirgen got to her feet and followed the storyteller, Eragon right behind her, as he led them to the very edge of the cliff. "Look over there," he said, pointing towards a clearing. "That clearing in the wood there? It's been near destroyed; you can see where it's been torn up and set on fire. You can see the smoke from here."

Indeed, Muirgen could see the smoke rising from the trees as she watched the wood, an uneasy feeling rising through her chest. Slowly, she turned around, looking at Brom. "That's it, isn't it?" she asked. "Where we were?"

Brom nodded, not removing his gaze from her. "There's something very strange about you, Muirgen of Carvahall," he told her quietly. "Even for a Dragon Rider. How did you know that something was going to happen back there?" He was looking at her intently. Even Eragon looked at her know.

_Careful,_ Diathí warned her, overhearing the conversation. _We don't know exactly what these voices are. We don't know whether they are good or evil. _

_Which is exactly why we've got to tell them,_ Muirgen replied before plunging into the story of the voices and how they had led her to Diathí's egg and how they had warned her about the danger. She conveniently decided not to mention to them about the part the voices had said about the daughter of Celandine and son of Selena riding and fighting together. Something along those lines.

Brom shook his head when he was finished. "I can't for the life of me understand why these voices would lead you to the egg—or even who or what they are," he added, seeing her about to ask. "They could be some Elves, but somehow, I don't think so."

Muirgen shook her head. "No, I didn't think so, either," she admitted. "I was thinking that if I could find out some more about my mother, then I might be able to find out who they are." She looked up at Brom questioningly. "You wouldn't happen to know anybody by the name of Celandine, would you?" she asked him, green eyes wide.

Brom paused, studying her carefully. "The only Celandine that I know of disappeared some time before you were born," he said at last. "No one knew where she had left and nobody ever knew what became of her."

"Well, my mother died giving birth to me, so it's possible that she hid out someplace before she reached Aunt Margery's and went into labour. Who was she?"

There was a long pause before Brom sighed, running his hands over his head. "She was a member of the Varden," he answered quietly. "A powerful ally, who was a spy in the palace, though the King believed her to be a double agent, especially when she fell in love with one of his own men."

Muirgen felt a chill travel down her spine as she stared at the storyteller. "Who was he?" she asked, while silently thinking, _my father. This was my father and my mother. _

"That, girl, is a story for another time," he answered simply. "You're simply not ready to hear that particular piece of information, if indeed you are right and this is the same Celandine that was your mother." He was looking at her sharply. "And I have a feeling that you are her daughter."

"How?" Muirgen frowned at him.

"Your eyes," he answered immediately. "They're the same as Celandine's; the same fey green ones she had. Now that's something that I thought I would never see."

Muirgen stared at him before looking away, staring at the place where they most certainly would have died had they stayed. "Did you know my father?' she said at long last, still not looking at him. "Did my mother ever tell you who he was?"

"She didn't have to," Brom answered. "But above everything else, she wanted to protect you from your father and who he became. I don't think that she intended for you ever to become a Rider, but who knows?" He smiled crookedly. "Perhaps your tale will be one of the strangest of them all."

Muirgen probably would have commented on this, but decided against it, noting the warning look in his eyes that clearly said that this conversation was over. As the three headed back to the camp, she felt irritation rising through her. _Why can't _anybody _tell me what I want to know? _she wondered. _Why can't I just know who my parents are? _

_Perhaps because you are not ready for that information, child,_ Diathí said wisely. _The truth comes to us when we are ready to hear it, never forget that. _

_That doesn't mean that I have to like it. _


	7. Swordplay

**Daughter of the Forsworn**

by the Lady of the Mists

Chapter Seven: Swordplay

Muirgen was sitting at the edge of the cliff, staring off into the horizon when she heard someone approach from behind her. She didn't even bother to look, knowing without looking that it was Eragon, though she wasn't quite sure how she knew this.

The blond boy walked up and sat down beside her, dangling his legs over the cliff. Muirgen smiled slightly as she turned her head towards him, acknowledging his presence. "You're going to tumble over to your death, you know," she told him.

"I doubt it," Eragon said with a shrug. His blue eyes focused on her and Muirgen felt her heart start to beat ever so faster. She could hear it pulsing in her ears and she was actually surprised that he couldn't hear it. "What are you doing over here?"

"Thinking," Muirgen answered quietly, forcing herself to look anywhere but at the blond Rider. "About my mother."

"I'm sorry Brom wouldn't tell you anything more about her. Or your father," Eragon said honestly. Muirgen looked at him, resting her head on one hand. "If it helps . . . I never knew my mother either. She left right after I was born. Nobody ever knew what became of her. And I don't know who my father is, not even the slightest hint."

"To be honest, I'm not sure that I want to know who my father is," Muirgen admitted. She shivered slightly. "When Aunt Margery told me about my mother and how she died, I had the strangest feeling that I didn't want to know about him. Like it would only bring me heartache." She smiled. "And recently, I've started to trust my feelings."

"Smart girl," Eragon said with a grin. Muirgen blushed at the attention he was giving her, but she couldn't help smiling at him. She couldn't help it; the way that he looked at her . . . it felt so intimidating, so right . . . it was as though everything were right with the world and nothing could possibly tarnish that moment.

But of course, moments like those never last forever.

Brom appeared over the corner, looking annoyed at seeing the pair of them sitting there doing nothing. "Are you two going to let me do all of the work?" he demanded. "There's plenty to be done before we settle down for the night. It's a long journey to the Beor Mountains and the King is looking for the both of you. We need to be prepared for anything. Here, girl," he added, tossing her a sword.

Muirgen caught it by the hilt, admiring the silvery blade that glinted in the fading sunlight, the emerald gem glistening at the very top of it. She held it easily in her hand, surprised by its light weight as she held it loosely at her side. Looking up at Brom, she raised her eyebrows as Brom tossed another sword at Eragon, who caught it.

"Let's go, the pair of you," he instructed. "You two are going to have to learn how to use those, as they may save your life one day. Now, I've prepared the blades so that they won't harm you. At least not permanently. Still, we would like to avoid any broken bones if possible. Come on," he insisted when the two young Riders looked at each other in disbelief, then looked towards the storyteller, trying to see if he was serious. "You don't want the Ra'zac to catch you off your guard and have nothing to fight with, do you? Trust me when I say that you'll appreciate the practice."

"I can't fight Muirgen!" Eragon protested, looking horrified at the very thought. Muirgen made a face at him, withdrawing the silver blade from its sheath, running her finger down the blade to make sure that Brom was indeed correct in his assumption that they wouldn't harm them.

Indeed, she could feel a barrier that went around the blade, stopping anyone from doing any serious injuries with the sword. "How did you do that?" she wanted to know.

"With the knowledge that I've acquired over the years," Brom said with a small smile.

"Magic?" she guessed and saw his smile broaden, which of course, meant that she was absolutely correct. "Can you teach me how?"

"Later, perhaps. You're not ready to learn how to do that just yet. Neither of you are." He motioned to them. "First things first, the blade. Learn to use it. Now, battle with each other. I mean it, boy," he added when Eragon hesitated.

Muirgen grinned up at Eragon. "Come on, let's see what you've got," she challenged. Eragon shook his head, raising the red blade above his head and moved to strike at her.

Although she was smaller than he was, Muirgen proved herself to be much more agile, ducking underneath his blade and moving before he even had a chance to react. The swords clashed in the midst of the wood, the Riders twirling around the campsite as their mentor looked on.

But even as the two young Riders were sparring, Brom's attention was focused solely on Muirgen, her fey green eyes wide and dancing with excitement, thrilled with the sparring match. And he could clearly see what her uncle had seen sixteen years ago.

That this girl was going to change everything one way or another. Depending on the choices that she made, she could either doom the future of Alagaesia . . . or save it.

And if she chose the path that her father had, the one that ultimately led to his ruin and the destruction of Lady Celandine, then they would have to choose the lesser of two evils. If she chose to ally herself with Galbatorix, then they would have to destroy her . . . before she destroyed them all.

--

Muirgen woke early the next morning, getting to her feet as she rolled up the blankets that Brom had provided for her. She let out a soft groan of pain as she felt the sores sparring with Eragon the night before had given her. Glancing over at the blond Rider, she smiled slightly, noticing how childlike he looked when he was asleep.

Of course, all people seemed younger than they actually were whenever they were asleep, she reasoned, getting to her feet and heading over to where Diathí and Saphira were sleeping.

Diathí opened one purple eye as she neared, reaching up and stroking his neck tenderly. _Good morning, my Rider,_ he said gently, nuzzling her fondly. _How are you feeling? _

_Sore, but all right, I think. It should wear off once we get moving. _Muirgen sighed, running her hand through her dark hair.

_What is wrong, child? _Diathí asked, looking at her in concern. She looked up at him in surprise. _Muirgen, my Rider, I am in your mind practically all the time and your feelings are my own. There is no need to conceal your fears and doubts from me. _

Muirgen nodded mutely as she sank down onto the ground, staring up at the silver dragon. "I don't know, Diathí," she admitted, "but everything is . . . so confusing right now. It was only a few months ago that I had nothing to worry about but getting my chores done and now . . ." She sighed, glancing towards where the two men were still sleeping. "Now, I have this huge weight on my shoulders that being a Dragon Rider is. I know the stories well enough; the fate of Alagaesia will ultimately depend on _my_ shoulders. I'm not sure if I can handle that. I'm not sure if I'm strong enough."

_That's why I'm here; to help you carry the burden, _Diathí told her. _You know that Brom is wary of you, don't you? _

"Yes, I caught that," she admitted. "I think it's more about my father than it is about me, though. He's afraid I might follow in my father's footsteps. Whoever he was."

_But you are afraid of this as well, my Rider. You felt the fear that Brom portrayed when he mentioned your father. And you fear that you may follow the path that proved deadly for him and your mother. _

The dark haired Rider hugged her knees as she thought about this. Her dragon had seen into her heart, had seen into her own deepest, darkest fears. "Do you think that a person's blood can ultimately play a role in their destiny, Diathí?" she whispered. "Do you think that no matter what happens, who and what they are can determine their fate?"

Diathí shook his magnificent head. _No, I don't. Personally, Muirgen, I believe that any man, woman, or creature can determine their own fate, regardless of who they are where they came from. Despite what other people may believe, they make their own choices. _

Muirgen smiled, a bit of relief surging through her as she considered this. "I hope that proves true for me," she told him. "Thank you, Diathí."

He nodded. _This is not the only thing that is bothering you, is it? There is something else. _

Almost automatically, her green eyes flew towards Eragon as he shifted in his sleep, almost knowing that their conversation had turned towards him. Still, the blond Rider slept on.

_You care about the son of Selena, don't you? _Diathí asked now, looking towards where Muirgen's attention had turned. There was no amusement or fascination in his voice as he spoke.

_Of course I care about him!_ Muirgen had no desire to have _this_ particular conversation aloud. Still, she couldn't conceal the fact that her pale cheeks had started to burn furiously, turning them a bright red. _He's been kind to me ever since we left the house and . . . and . . . _

_And you can feel something stirring within you that you have never felt before,_ Diathí said wisely.

Muirgen felt her face flame even more at that remark, unable to deny that particular fact. It was true that ever since she had met Eragon, something had started to stir within her, something strange and unfamiliar, something that she had felt for no man before. Part of her wished that she could banish these feelings to wherever they had come from and the other part of her wanted to cherish them, to pursue them. Still, she knew that having a romance here and now would only prove to make things more difficult. They had other things to concentrate on, like becoming Dragon Riders and helping the Varden. They didn't need to be . . .

Well, this was certainly not the time for that. Besides, she barely even knew who she was. How was she supposed to be responsible for two people when she didn't even know who _she_ was?

_Perhaps being together is part of who you are, _Diathí said wisely, looking at her sternly. _Dear child, perhaps this is not about your destinies as Riders, but rather your fears of repeating your mother's history. Her past is not your future, no matter what anyone says. The same goes for your father. _

_How did you get to be so wise, Diathí? _she asked quietly, suppressing a small sigh as she leaned her head on his foreleg.

A small chuckle emerged from the silver dragon. _Well, it helps that my Rider knows how to keep her wits about her. _

Muirgen smiled slightly, a bit embarrassed yet pleased by the compliment. She looked over as the two men _finally_ started to get up. Eragon looked around, worried when he didn't see her, but then smiled as he spotted the dark haired Rider by the silver dragon.

"Well, here goes another day," she sighed as she got to her feet. "Where to now?" she asked Brom.

"Therinsfold," he answered. "We have to get you a horse and tack."

"Why?" Eragon demanded, looking surprised. "We can ride together, it's no problem." He smiled at her.

"He's right," Muirgen found herself saying, inwardly chiding herself for speaking. She could feel her cheeks flaming again. "There's no need to spend money on a horse, sir." Her green eyes were focused on Eragon, even though she was speaking to Brom. The blond Rider grinned widely at her, his blue eyes focused on her.

"No, we'll get you a horse, girl," Brom told her sharply. "And don't bother arguing with me. You should know by now that it isn't going to do any good for either of you. Let's get a move on. With any luck, we'll be on our way through Therinsfold by midday."

"And then?" Eragon asked, not looking happy about his words.

"Then . . . we continue onward towards the Beor Mountains and the Varden," he answered. "And hopefully keep the Ra'zac off of our tails. Because if they find us . . . then we're doomed."


	8. A Thread of Fate

**Daughter of the Forsworn**

by the Lady of the Mists

Chapter Eight: A Thread of Fate

Muirgen kept her guard up as they entered Therinsfold, wariness falling through her as they approached the stable where they would be buying a horse and tack for her.

"Eragon, stay with the horses while Muirgen and I go see the man about purchasing a horse," Brom instructed, sliding off his horse and tossing the reins to the blond Rider.

Although not happy about being left behind, Eragon agreed, giving Muirgen a hand down as she slid off. She smiled gratefully at him, following the old storyteller into the stable.

As they entered, an old man who was grooming a white stallion looked up at them. "Good morning, sir," he said with a smile. "And little lass," he added, with a nod towards Muirgen. She smiled back. "What can I do for the two of you?"

"Ah, I need a mount for my niece here," Brom answered, nodding towards Muirgen. "Hers was spooked off a couple nights ago and wasn't tied right. She's had to ride with my nephew since then. Anyway, we need a replacement horse and tack for her. And it will have to be both fast and tough. We've been doing a lot of travelling as of late."

The man frowned slightly, putting some thought into it as Muirgen moved around the stable, inspecting the horses in the stall. As she passed by a handsome chestnut mare, she stopped and looked back into her brown eyes. Reaching out and stroking its face, Muirgen laughed as it nickered and turned its pointed ears towards her, inspecting the dark haired Rider curiously, its apprehension rising.

"Easy, there, girl," Muirgen crooned, stroking the mare gently. "Easy. It's all right. I'm a friend." Her voice was soft, but Brom's head turned towards her as the mare began to calm down. Although the dark haired Rider was not aware of it, the storyteller had heard her words, spoken in the ancient language though they were.

"That girl there has a good eye for animals," the man said approvingly as he walked over to Muirgen, patting the mare. "She's both fast and strong, one of the best I've ever had. Good legs on her, and your niece shouldn't have any trouble with her."

"Hmm." Brom frowned slightly as he looked towards Muirgen and the mare. He walked over to them and stretched his hand toward the mare, inspecting her carefully. Muirgen's skin prickled as she sensed magic in the air.

Glancing at Brom, she saw his eyes narrowed in concentration as he looked at the mare directly in the eye. After a moment, he nodded. "Yes, I think this one will do," he agreed. The man smiled and named the price while getting the tack for Muirgen, saddling the mare for her.

Muirgen climbed onto the mare awkwardly, never having ridden before by herself, as they left the stable, Brom retrieving his own mount from Eragon and they left Therinsfold.

Once they were a safe distance away from the village, Brom directed a question towards Muirgen. "Where did you learn the ancient language?"

"What?" Looking at Brom, she realised that he was quite serious. "The ancient language?" she repeated. She shook her head. "What is that? I've never heard of that. And what do you mean, I spoke it?" Confusion filled through her as she stared at Brom.

"Back at the stables, you spoke to the mare in the ancient tongue," Brom answered, shaking his head. "It's a basis of power, describing the true nature of things."

"You mean it's magic?" Eragon interrupted, staring at the storyteller in surprise. "You use them to use magic."

"Don't you ever tire of asking question?" Brom sighed. Muirgen couldn't stop the small chuckle that escaped her and Eragon blushed interestedly. "But yes, for lack of a better explanation, you use the ancient language to command the thing that is the focus of your power. Magic flows through Riders from the dragons they command."

Muirgen stared at Brom, unable to believe her ears. "You mean, we can use magic?" she asked slowly, indicating her and Eragon.

"Eventually, but you have to have the physical strength to withstand its effect," Brom answered. "I don't tell you this lightly, because normally it takes years for Riders to learn this, but unfortunately we are pressed for time."

Suddenly, Muirgen remembered the way that the mare had reacted after she had spoken to her. "After I said I was a friend, she started to calm down, and . . ."

"You spoke in the ancient language and thus she understood you," Brom agreed. "In this language, you cannot lie. Were in not for this, then she probably would not have allowed you to touch her, let alone ride her."

As this thought propelled through Muirgen's mind, she stroked the chestnut mare unconsciously. "Now, if we are all out of questions for the day, I think that you had better give that mare of yours a name," Brom said to Muirgen. "Every living thing deserves a name."

The dark haired Rider leaned her head back towards the sky. "Hmm, well, what about Áine?" she suggested. "Is your name Áine?" she asked the mare, who nickered approvingly. Eragon laughed. "Guess so," she said, grinning at her fellow Rider. "Come on, race you!" she called, breaking into a gallop.

"No fair!" Eragon shouted after her. Muirgen only laughed, grinning back at him. Brom was laughing at the two young Riders as they raced towards the Beor Mountains.

--

Muirgen had finally had enough of travelling for weeks on end, wearing the endless dust and filth from the road. After they had settled down for the day, she had Diathí keep an eye for intruders for her and went down to the river to get a good scrubbing.

As she sank down into the cool water, she scrubbed away the muck that had piled itself on. It seemed to take forever; the mud was caked on and streaked itself throughout her dark hair. After a couple hours, when she had finally started shivering due to the freezing water, she climbed on and quickly dressed, despite the freezing temperatures.

When she fastened the last button on her gown, she thought dimly of trading her gown for breeches and a tunic at the next town that they came to, but she decided against it. People were going to wonder enough why a girl was travelling unescorted with two men. No need to rouse their attention further.

By the time that she climbed to the top of the rock where they were camping out, she saw that Eragon was standing there with his arms folded across his chest, watching her. Muirgen immediately blushed furiously. "Were you watching?"

"Of course not!" Eragon protested, but his broad smile made her doubt his claim. "I was just coming to make sure you were all right. You've been gone for awhile. I was starting to get worried."

Muirgen considered hitting him for spying on her, but only glared at him. "Don't you know that it's very rude to spy on girls like that?" she challenged him. "There are some people who would have you executed for such actions, I'll have you know."

"Really?" Eragon asked interestedly. He helped her complete her journey onto the rocks. "Well, what else would they have me executed for?" he wanted to know.

"Probably for so much as talking to me without the permission of my guardian," she replied. Then she winced slightly. "Although considering that Niall tried to kill me, I guess that it would be Brom right now."

Eragon laughed at that. "Probably not a good idea to ask him if I could so much as talk to you," he commented, glancing towards where the storyteller was undoubtedly at. However, the old man was out of sight, leaving the two young Riders alone.

"Probably not," Muirgen agreed, glancing down where their hands were linked. Just the feeling of it sent off a series of feelings bursting through her, ones that she had never felt before in her life. They made her feel as though she were everywhere at once, yet being contained inside her tiny human shell.

Slowly, she raised her head to look back at Eragon, his blue eyes looking at her directly in her green ones. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest so hard that it was astounding that _he_ couldn't hear. They were standing so close it was remarkable that he _couldn't_ hear it.

"Eragon . . ." Her voice came out breathless as they started leaning ever so closer to each other. If they stood any closer, then what would happen?

But every thought went out of her mind as Eragon's lips captured hers in a soft and passionate kiss. Every fear that was screaming at her fell silent. The worry that had been plaguing her since she had first laid eyes on the blond Rider was remedied. Nothing seemed to matter anymore . . . everything was quiet and joyful. The only thing that went through her was blissful happiness.

Her arms went around Eragon and Muirgen felt as though nothing could possibly interrupt this moment. In that moment, time seemed to have stopped and they were the only two people in the world.

And the only that made time return was the two young lovers breaking apart and staring at each other, both of them breathless. Eragon chuckled as he pressed his forehead against hers. "Whoa . . ." he whispered. "That was . . ."

"Amazing," Muirgen whispered back, still with her arms around him. In that moment, the two had become one and neither wanted to break apart or even let go.

"Incredible," Eragon agreed, taking one of her hands and entwining it into his. His blue eyes were latched onto hers. He was leaning closer to her again, about to kiss her again, when Brom's irritable voice interrupted the two of them.

"What do you two think you're doing?"

Almost as if they had both received a shock, Muirgen and Eragon broke apart, scrambling away from each other quickly. The dark haired Rider, forgetting that they were standing on a cliff, almost tripped and tumbled over to her death.

Eragon reacted so fast. One minute, Muirgen thought she was falling and the next, it was though her arm was being ripped out of her socket. He had grabbed hold of her and pulled her back to safe ground.

Once her feet were planted on firm ground, Muirgen got as far away from the cliff as possibly and glared up at the storyteller, furious with him for startling them so badly.

Brom was looking between the two and seemed to know what happened from both of their flushed faces. "I almost forgot what it was like to be young," he commented, shaking his head. "Come on, both of you. Stew's almost ready."

The storyteller walked back to the camp and Muirgen looked back at Eragon. Almost instantly, the two Riders burst into a fit of laughter. "Has it ever occurred to you that he has the annoying habit of showing up right when we don't want him to?" Muirgen asked, still laughing.

"I think he does that on purpose," Eragon answered, grinning broadly. "Come on, we'd better get up there before he thinks we ran off and eloped together."

"Oh, good gods," Muirgen muttered, but she couldn't help grinning as the two of them hurried up to the camp.

She remembered an old saying that Margery used to tell her. _"Fate is a tangle. You can only follow one thread."_

Until recently, she had never really understood what that had meant. But now she was starting to think that in first meeting Eragon at Sloan's, she had met one thread of her fate.


	9. Attack at Yazuac

**Daughter of the Forsworn**

by the Lady of the Mists

Chapter Nine: Attack at Yazuac

It was early in the morning when they rode through Yazuac. Muirgen felt chill curl up her spine the moment that she set eyes on it. There was something about this place that felt . . . wrong. Something was amiss in this village, something that was utterly different from the way that it was supposed to be.

"Brom, something's wrong," she told the storyteller as they rode towards the village. Saphira and Diathí were waiting by the Ninor River, which flowed on both sides of it and onward, vanishing in the distance. Much as Muirgen tried, she couldn't see where it ended.

Acknowledging her comment with a small nod, Brom searched the village with a sharp look. There was no one in the streets. Muirgen couldn't sense another human being within the walls of the village. Silence howled, bringing with it a sense of foreboding.

"There aren't any dogs barking," Eragon observed, coming to a stop before they reached the first house. Muirgen slid off Áine, gently patting the mare to steady her, before looking around at their surroundings. "Shouldn't we have met somebody by now?"

"Yes, we should've," Brom agreed, still on his own mount. "Get back on your mare, girl. We might have to make a quick escape."

Muirgen nodded, sliding back into the saddle and straightening as she cast a quick glance around. She didn't like this. She didn't like this at all.

As they rounded the corner, Eragon suddenly made an exclamation of horror and anguish. He turned his blue eyes away from the sight, looking at his fellow Rider. "Muirgen, don't look!" he ordered, but it was already too late. The dark-haired Rider had already seen.

"Merciful gods," Muirgen whispered, her hand covering her mouth as she stared in aghast at the scene in front of her.

In the centre of town, there was a mass of corpses lying on top of each other, each trying to protect loved ones from the horror that they had faced. Muirgen was not unaccustomed to seeing dead people; with her aunt as a midwife, she had been witness to many births and some accompanied by death. And she had recently seen her aunt lying dead. But this was different . . . oh, so different . . .

No one had been spared. The very old had been slaughtered to the very young. Mothers had tried to protect their younglings. Men had attempted to save their families. Lovers had died protecting each other. None had been left alive, not even the very young. Muirgen's heart cried out when she saw the baby that had been speared.

She didn't realise that she had been sobbing until Eragon reached out and hugged her tightly. His face looked pale and as though he were trying very hard not to be sick.

Trying to calm down, even though she was still sobbing and shaking like mad, Muirgen only pulled away from his embrace when she felt able to control herself. Pushing away her tears, she tried not to look at the pile of bodies as Brom got down and inspected the ground around them with what one might call an expert's analysis.

"This was not the work the Ra'zac," he said softly, looking up at the Riders carefully, "although they passed by this way. From the looks of things, this is the doing of Urgals. But I have rarely heard of them doing anything like this before . . ." He frowned as he examined a footprint intently, an alarmed look jumping into his face.

Muirgen almost jumped as the storyteller leaped to his feet and raced back to his mount. "Ride!" he hissed. "They're still here!"

Slamming her heels into Áine's side, Muirgen raced after him with Eragon right behind her, eager to get as far away from this place as she could. The images of the bodies would haunt her nightmares for a long time, she knew. If she ever got rid of the memory of this day, then it would be a miracle. And it wouldn't be too soon.

Whether she was so distracted by the recollection or she was so intent on leaving Yazuac, she would never know, but she was suddenly caught off her guard when Eragon let out a cry as he was flung from his horse Cadoc.

"Eragon!" she shouted, swinging her mare around. Brom, alerted by her cry, turned back around, but by this time, she had already leaped off Áine and was at Eragon's side, looking around at his attacker.

She knew that she was looking at an Urgal just by staring up at him. His lips curled into a menacing smile as he looked at the two young Riders. Eragon pushed himself to his feet, shielding Muirgen from him. Brom was some feet away, battling another Urgal.

"Run, you fools!" Brom shouted to them.

"Muirgen, go!" Eragon shouted. "I'll hold them off!" He sounded so desperate, but Muirgen shook her head firmly.

"No!" she shouted. "Not without you!" She glanced back at Áine, where she saw the glint of silver on the saddle, along with the emerald gem of the sword that Brom had given her. Her eyes flew back towards the Urgal, who was raising his sword to attack them.

Pushing her towards Áine, Eragon scrambled out of the way as the sword sailed through the air, almost missing them. Muirgen rolled away, pushing herself up as she raced towards Áine, seizing the weapon from the saddle and hurrying back to Eragon, who had retrieved his bow.

Just as she was running back to him, Eragon's eyes fastened on something behind her. "Muirgen, behind you!" he shouted. She whirled around to face the other Urgal that had been fighting Brom. The storyteller was down, blood pouring from his arm. From the way that he was laying, Muirgen wasn't sure if he was still alive.

Holding the sword in her right hand, Muirgen yanked her dagger out of her belt and held it in her left. "This one thinks she can fight," he said disdainfully. "How long do you think you can last, pretty human?"

Not thinking twice, Muirgen flew towards him, slashing this way and that towards the Urgal, who only raised his own weapon towards her to deafen her blows. It seemed as though the battle had gone on forever when she finally heard Eragon scream something, a word she had never heard before, but somehow knew the word and its meaning.

"Brisingr!"

_Get down, daughter of Celandine!_ The voices were screaming at her, all of them telling her to drop and every one of them as insistent as the first. Muirgen didn't have to be told twice; she hurdled herself to the ground.

Blue fire streamed overheard, held by an arrow fired by Eragon, and hit one of the Urgals in the head. It screamed in pain before it exploded and then the residue flew out, striking the other Urgal and receiving the same effect. All of this happened in the space of about two heartbeats.

The next thing that she knew, Eragon was yanking her up, terrified. "Are you all right?" he asked in alarm. "Did I . . . did I hurt you?"

"I'm fine," she answered, shaking her head. She stared at him. "How did you do that?"

Eragon looked down at the bow he was holding and shook his head. "I don't know," he admitted, then looked towards Brom. "Magic, I guess," he added as they ran towards the storyteller.

To her relief, he only had the wound in his right arm. She had been afraid that his collapse had been something more fatal. Still, they had to take care of it before it _did_ turn into something serious and deadly.

Before either of them could do anything, Muirgen heard the angry flap of wings resonating in the air. She looked up and saw the silver streak flying towards them, with a sapphire one just ahead of him. _Over here, Diathí. We're over here. Can you see us? _

_We're coming, my Rider. Are you all right? _His voice was deep and concerned, but she could sense his relief that she was safe.

_I'm alive, _Muirgen answered simply. _I'm not sure that I'm all right. Brom's hurt, though. _Eragon was nearby, having a conversation with Saphira as they were getting the storyteller onto Saphira. _Let's get out of here. _

_I couldn't agree more,_ Diathí agreed as they hurriedly got the—by now—conscious Brom onto Saphira and getting away from Yazuac, leaving the horrors that they had seen behind and heading towards new dangers, new adventures, continuing on towards their destinies. But unfortunately, the memories of it would continue with Muirgen. They would stay with her until her dying day.

--

It wasn't long before Brom regained consciousness, but by that time, the two Riders and their dragons had already managed a safe getaway from Yazuac, concealing themselves far enough south so that they were away from any straggling Urgals. Muirgen had Eragon stay with Brom while she went in search of the plants that she needed.

Once she had retrieved them, she mixed them into an ointment, applying it tenderly to Brom's injury. The storyteller watched her with interest as she did this, but she hardly paying attention, her focus on the task at hand.

"You're a wondrous healer, Muirgen," he commented. The dark haired Rider glanced at him. "Where did you learn this?"

"From Aunt Margery," she answered with a shrug, brushing her dark bangs out of her fey green eyes. "She suspected that I might need to know this type of healing someday and showed me how to do it. She taught me which plants could harm and which ones could heal at an early age."

"Hmm." Brom nodded as he stared into the fire. "Well, she taught you well, that's all I've got to say. Good thing, too, in these dangerous times, we could use a healer with us."

Muirgen sighed, thinking wistfully of Margery. She may be the daughter of Celandine, whoever she was, but Margery had raised her. The woman had willingly taken her into her home and raised her as her own. It would've been easy for Margery to sent her away and have someone else deal with her, but she hadn't. She had _chosen_ to raise her. And in her heart, she knew that she was the chosen daughter of Margery. Muirgen smiled slightly; someday, she might solve the mystery of her mother's identity, but it would never change the fact that it was _Margery_ and not Celandine that had taught her right from wrong and had set her on the path to her destiny.

"Well, since our path to Yazuac is blocked," Brom said finally as Eragon dropped some more logs onto the fire and sat down next to Muirgen, "we're going to need to find another place for provisions." He paused, thinking. "Well, Daret is south of us, but close enough that we can get supplies from. Unless either one of you have any ideas?"

Eragon shook his head. Muirgen thought carefully, picturing Alagaesia on the map, but couldn't think of anything closer to them than Daret. She nodded. "I think it's our best bet. Hopefully, it won't be destroyed too."

"With any luck," Brom agreed. Saphira, Muirgen noticed, was looking agitated at them and turned away.

_What's wrong with her? _Muirgen asked Diathí, who looked towards the sapphire dragon worriedly.

_She's worried about Eragon nearly being killed today, _Diathí explained. _It took a great effect on her. Don't be too surprised if she forces him to fly with her pretty soon. _

Muirgen winced slightly. She had completely forgotten about flying on their dragons. Both of them were old enough to carry their Riders, but she worried about leaving Brom alone. With Urgals and the Ra'zac hunting them, it wasn't a good idea.

But they _did_ need to learn how to fly with their dragons, she reasoned. After all, both dragons and their Riders fought together in the mighty battles that they had been in. How else had the Riders fought with their dragon, other than astride them?

_We do need to learn how to do that too, my Rider, _Diathí said severely, narrowing his purple eyes towards her.

Muirgen bit her lip. _I know. _

_The two of us will ride alongside Saphira and the son of Selena. It is what is meant to be. You know that. So, their first flight will also be ours. _

A small smile crossed Muirgen's face as she glanced towards Eragon, remembering what he'd told her about his and Saphira's first flight. It hadn't been the most pleasant of experiences. _It's not going to be their first time, Diathí. _

Some weird sound came from Diathí and she frowned at him, wondering what it was, but then she realised he was laughing. There was a twinkle in his eye as he flew after Saphira. As their Riders were growing closer, so were the dragons, it seemed.

Sleep didn't come easily that night and when it finally did, strange dreams plagued Muirgen. She dreamt of a strange, beautiful woman with hair the colour of honey and her own fey, green eyes appeared in a cloud of mist. Her white gown flowed around her like a waterfall and she had a crown of flowers in her hair.

_"Muirgen . . ." the woman whispered, her voice echoing through the mists. "Muirgen . . . where are you?" _

_"Mother?" Muirgen whispered, her heart pounding in excitement and anticipation. "Mother, I'm here!" _

_The woman smiled, a strange wind blowing her hair into her face. "My daughter," she said softly, reaching her hand out towards the dark haired Rider. But as much as she tried to reach her daughter, the barrier between the living and the dead prevented the contact. "Oh, you've grown into a beautiful young woman. More beautiful than I could've imagined. And a Rider as well," she added, spotting the mark on Muirgen's palm. _

_"Mother," Muirgen whispered, "I need to know about what you told Aunt Margery when you died, about the danger that was to be coming for me. Do you remember?" _

_Her face was instantly dispirited, but Celandine nodded quietly. "Yes, I remember," she answered. "But I cannot tell you, daughter. That secret you must learn for yourself." _

_"How can I face something if I don't know what it is?" Muirgen cried out, but she could see that the dream was ending. The mists were swirling around and taking Celandine with them. _

_"Go to Teirm, my daughter . . ." Celandine's voice echoed through the mists. "In Teirm, you will find one part of your fate, one that you have already started to find. And a secret of your past will be revealed there." _

_"Mother!" Muirgen shouted, racing towards Celandine, but the woman was already gone. The dark haired Rider was standing alone in the mists, looking wildly around for her mother . . . and for answers. _

With a soft gasp, Muirgen sat up straight, looking wildly around at the campsite. Eragon glanced over at her, already awake, but Brom was still asleep as she looked around.

"Are you all right?"

Muirgen took a deep breath, wondering what she was supposed to say to that. Was she all right? She wasn't even sure if _she_ knew the answer to that question. But the bigger question was, should she trust what she had seen in her dream? Should she listen to her dream? But how could she risk not to? Answers could lay in Teirm. Perhaps that is where she could find the answers to questions that she wanted answering and no one would give them to her.

"I'm all right," she answered. "But we need to go to Teirm."

"Teirm?" Brom had awoken and was now looking at her quickly and in alarm. "But that's southeast of us, farther away from the Beor Mountains, girl! What in the blazes could we be do there?"

Muirgen looked at him. "My mother came to me," she said softly. "In a dream. She told me that answers would be found in Teirm. And that I would find a part of my fate."

"Celandine?" Brom's voice was soft at this. He looked at her thoughtfully. "What did she look like?"

A smile spread across Muirgen's face as she thought of her mother. "She was . . . very beautiful," she answered. "She had long, honey curls and my eyes. And she wore a gown of white, with white and gold flowers in her hair."

Brom closed his eyes, obviously in debate with himself, but then nodded. "If Celandine has reason for us to go to Teirm, then to Teirm we shall go," he sighed. "Perhaps our reason for being there will become closer by the hour. Let's get a move on," he said sharply. "If we are to be in Teirm by tomorrow, then we need to get up early and lay down late. And ride like the wind."

"We always do that," Eragon pointed out, causing Muirgen to smother a chuckle as Brom sent a withering look at the two Riders.

Shaking his head at the glowing sky, Brom said, "Children. Why did I have to be accompanied by children?"


	10. First Flight

**Daughter of the Forsworn**

by the Lady of the Mists

Chapter Ten: First Flight

Diathí's prediction proved accurate. After a brush with some less than pleasant folks from Daret, Saphira finally got fed up and with Diathí, Muirgen, and Brom watching in amusement, pinned Eragon to the ground, refusing to let him up until he had promised to fly with her the next day.

_And if you had any respect for your dragon, then you'd fly with him as well,_ Saphira threw at Muirgen, who was grinning coyly at the sight in front of her.

"Oh, don't worry, Saphira," Muirgen assured her. "Diathí and I will be right up there with the two of you. If Brom can handle both of us gone, that is," she added, looking at the storyteller.

Brom scratched his beard, but nodded. "I think that we'll be all right without the two of you. Besides, if I need either of you, I can contact you easily enough."

Muirgen rolled her eyes. _That man has some secrets that I would _love_ to have answers to. But those questions can wait until after Teirm._

They had made saddles after leaving Carvahall, something that Muirgen had forgotten about until it came time for them to use them. As she climbed up onto her silver dragon, she looked towards Eragon, a roguish smile crossing her face.

"You ready?" she asked.

"No," Eragon sighed, "but let's do it!" Saphira agreed as she roared and propelled herself into the air. Diathí soared after her, his silver wings glinting in the sunlight as they took flight, the wind blowing through her hair as they left the ground below, heading towards the sky.

Muirgen shrieked as he took a dive, swirling around in an awkward angle, but started laughing as she looked around at the world below them. She had spend sixteen years climbing trees so she could see the world at an entirely different angle than the one that people were used to and now she was doing it the way that few people were able to.

"It's so beautiful up here!" she called to Diathí, who nodded. She laughed again as she spread her arms out, allowing them to be propelled by the wind, but seized the saddle as she was almost knocked off of Diathí.

_Careful,_ Diathí warned her, but he was amused. _You don't want to lose your balance up here. _

_No,_ Muirgen agreed. _Where's Saphira and Eragon? _She looked around for the pair, and saw them just ahead. The sapphire dragon was concealing herself in a cloud, something that came useful for intruders, she reckoned.

As she held the saddle with two hands, Muirgen looked around, startled, as a flock of birds whizzed by them, whistling as they flew. The entire group looked startled to see them, astonished that a Rider and a dragon were up here, amongst the clouds.

Searching deep within herself, Muirgen found the place where she had spoken with Áine in the ancient language. "Don't mind us!" she called in it. "We mean no harm."

The birds twittered amongst themselves before flying off into the horizon, but one small bird hung back, flying into Muirgen's hands. She allowed it to land on her finger, smiling at it before she sent it back with its family. The tiny swallow was no outsider, like they were. It needed to be at home, with his family. To be an outsider was no life for a little bird.

It seemed like forever since they had first ascended before Brom finally called them down, using the voice of the mind to communicate. Every time that she was presented with more information about this old man, the more she became convinced that he wasn't _just_ some old storyteller from Carvahall. No, she was becoming more and more convinced that he was more than just what he seemed.

"We're coming up on Teirm now," Brom said, pointing ahead of them. "I'm afraid that we can't afford for you two to be seen anymore, Saphira, Diathí," he said respectfully. "They must stay with me until we leave Teirm. Any idea when that might be, girl?" he asked mildly.

Muirgen shrugged. "I don't know. Could be a couple of hours or a couple of days. That really depends on what we find out." To Diathí, she said, _Don't worry, we'll be all right. And try to keep out of sight and Saphira from worrying too much about Eragon. I'll keep an eye on him. _

_Then I'm sure that he will be fine, _Diathí said firmly as he rose into the air. _Take care, my Rider. _With a swish, he took flight into the sky. A moment later, Saphira rose to join him, leaving the three humans behind.

Tossing her Áine's reins, Brom instructed, "Come on, you two, we've still got some ground to cover before we get there. And I'd prefer to get there before dark. They'll close the gates at dusk, which means we'll spend the night camped outside of Teirm, which is something I'd rather avoid."

"So, what happens after we get inside?" Eragon asked as he climbed on Cadoc. "Are we going to stay at a lodge or something?" His blue eyes were focused on the storyteller as he turned around in the saddle of the white stallion he rode.

"No, we'll be staying with an old friend of mine, Jeod. Also, we won't be using our own names while we're in there. I don't want anybody remembering our names. People have the annoying habit of remembering things that they shouldn't."

"So, who will we be?" Eragon questioned. "And will we be telling this friend of yours who we are?"

Brom laughed. "Oh, don't worry about him. He's very loyal, Jeod. Besides, he knows my name and I think I can trust him with you twos. And I will be Neal and you will be my niece and nephew, Evan and Moira. If you slip and say your own name, it won't make much difference, but still, I don't want anybody remembering them."

"We'll be careful," Muirgen assured him. She was pretty sure that she could remember Moira. It was close enough to her own name that she could keep it in her mind.

"So, any idea _why_ exactly your mother is sending us here?" Eragon questioned as they neared Teirm.

Muirgen shrugged. "Who knows? I don't exactly know why she would do anything, because I never got the chance to know her."

Eragon looked at her sharply, reaching out and touching her hand gently. She looked at him and saw the sympathy in his eyes. "I hope that you find what you're looking for here."

She smiled gratefully at him. "I hope so, too," she said softly, her green eyes fastened on his blue ones. "And I think you're going to make a great Rider someday, Eragon. Your uncle would've been proud of you." His fingers slipped through hers and tightened his grip on them.

"Thanks." Eragon's voice was slightly husky. "I think that he would've liked you." He smiled slightly at her before releasing her hand, glancing ahead at Brom. "If it weren't for the old man," he said so only she could hear, "I would kiss you right now."

Muirgen blushed prettily, her pale face suddenly becoming crimson, and she bit her lip in embarrassment. She couldn't help the shy and timid smile that crossed her face as they continued to ride towards Teirm.

And she realised something right then and there, something that she should've realised before.

She was starting to fall in love with Eragon of Carvahall.

--

Brom's friend seemed like a nice fellow, all things considered, but still Muirgen had the distinct feeling that they knew something about her that they weren't sharing. Something about her mother . . . and her father. While he had been reluctant to share any information about her mother, Brom was being downright stubborn about the identity of her father.

The day after they arrived, Brom had some errands to do with Jeod, so Eragon and Muirgen went to go explore the city. They spent hours enjoying each other's company and wandering the various shops that seemed interesting. But finally, they were forced to head back to the merchant's due to lack of food and money.

Muirgen stopped when they reached Angela the herbalist's shop right next to Jeod's. "Come on, let's check this place out," she suggested. Eragon was curious as well, so the pair entered the shop, inspecting the various plants, mortars, bowls, pestles, animals, and balls that covered the shop.

As Muirgen went to inspect some herbs that she recognised, she heard Angela and Eragon's voices carrying over to her. She came back just as Angela was offering to read his fortune.

"I don't need my fortune read," Eragon protested. "Besides, I don't have any money."

Angela glanced at Muirgen and smiled. "He's with you?" she asked. She nodded, catching the look on Eragon's face. "Hmm. Good man, this one."

"Yes," Muirgen answered with a smile. "I know."

"Well, I can read both of yours, if you like. With something that does actually . . . wait a minute," she said quickly, "I'll be right back."

She hurried out of the room so fast that Muirgen almost thought that she flew out, but the herbalist was back in just a few seconds, clutching a leather pouch in her hand. "It's been so long since I've used these, I almost forgotten where they were. Knucklebones of a dragon. Unlike tealeaves, crystal balls, or even divining cards, they are true fortune telling. I will cast them for each of you, if you like."

Eragon glanced at Muirgen, who looked back at him. "I'll have the bones cast," he said at last, looking back at Angela.

Muirgen nodded, feeling as though this was a part of the secret that her mother had mentioned. "So will I." She looked at Eragon. "Do you want me to step outside while yours are read?"

He instantly shook his head. "No. Stay," he answered immediately, taking her hand and pulling her into the seat next to him. Muirgen obeyed, taking a cross-legged position next to her fellow Rider and watching Angela as she began to cast the bones for him. She settled herself down, listening to Eragon's fortune.

"This is one of the most difficult fortunes I've ever done," she said quietly, her voice suddenly carrying a mystical sign. "A long life is what is the most clear. There are many years ahead of you . . ." She moved down the bones, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration and frustration. "There are many choices in your future, some of which you face even now. Great battles rage around you, some fought for your own sake. Might powers of this land struggle to control your will and destiny. Countless possible futures await you, all of them filled with blood and conflict, but only one shall bring you happiness. Beware of losing your way, for you are one of the few who are free to choose your own fate. There is a doom that lies ahead of you, part of it in death, and your fate will be forever to leave this land."

Eragon's face looked a bit uneasy as he thought about this. Muirgen squeezed his hand tightly as Angela turned to the next piece of a very complex puzzle. "Now, this is a bit more pleasant. An epic romance, an extraordinary one and strong enough to outlast empires. It is unclear whether or not this will end happily, but your love is of noble birth and heritage. She is powerful, wise, and beautiful beyond compare."

Muirgen felt her breath caught and both she and Eragon exchanged a look. She was pretty sure that they were both thinking the same thing: was the girl that Angela spoke of Muirgen . . . or someone else?

"Now, this last part somewhat grim, I'm unhappy to say," Angela continued, unaware of the two Riders' concerns. Her face was grave. "A betrayal is clear. And I'm afraid, dear boy, that it will come from someone within your own family."

"Roran wouldn't do that!" Eragon protested.

"I wouldn't know," Angela admitted, taking a sip of her drink. "But the bones have never lied and that is what they say."

Eragon looked slightly unnerved, but accepted the drink that she offered him. While the blond Rider recovered from his reading, Angela looked towards Muirgen.

"Now . . ." she said softly. "Would you like me to read your fortune, young lady? Or would you rather have the future be unknown?"

Muirgen glanced at Eragon, a bit worried by his fortune. But . . . this was her chance, her only chance, to find the truth where others would not give it.

Closing her eyes, Muirgen said the words that she would later regret. "Cast the bones."

And she didn't look up, even as Angela said the mystical words of power or the sounds of the bones clattering against the table. She only listened.


	11. A Glimpse of the Future

**Daughter of the Forsworn**

by the Lady of the Mists

Chapter Eleven: A Glimpse of the Future

When she felt Eragon's hand squeeze hers, Muirgen almost jumped, broken from her resolve to not look up. She glanced towards him and he smiled at her reassuringly before he turned his attention towards Angela as she studied the bones on the table. Muirgen bit her lip as the witch took a sip of the drink again, studying the bones curiously.

At long last, she looked up towards Muirgen and shook her head, smiling wryly. "I have to say this much," she remarked, "out of all the people I have done readings for, you two are definitely the most difficult. Never before have I ever seen young lives so tangled. I never would have imagined that a young life would be woven so twisted."

Muirgen's stomach clenched as she glanced down at the bones, but she could no more read dragon bones than Eragon could. What did Angela see for her future? A beautiful and peaceful one, like the one she longed for? Or a dark and desolate one, like the one she dreaded?

"This is where it is the clearest, young girl," Angela said, pointing towards the bones. "You have been searched for many long years by an evil that will haunt you until you defeat it. This evil hunts you even now and will stop at nothing to gain your allegiance. He knows you for who you are, girl, and you will meet him eventually. But then, you will be forced to make a choice."

"What do you mean?"

"Your blood is tainted. One side is the essence of pure good and the other of pure evil. Both sides will try and control you, and eventually you will have to make a choice between the two. You will have to reject your mother or disown your father."

"My father?!"

"He is of great power and wealth, but as his only child you have the right to the power that he held. I speak of nobility, girl. In many ways, you have the right to claim what was once his." Her eyes grew haunted slightly. "Cathair was indeed powerful, as undoubtedly his daughter is."

Muirgen froze, her skin prickling as she heard the name. "Cathair," she breathed, recognising the name. Not many knew all thirteen names of the Forsworn; the most famous was Morzan. But Muirgen knew them all by heart. Cathair had been the name of one of the more famous ones. A deadly assassin and Rider. _It can't be . . . _

But even as she tried to deny this fact, she heard Brom's voice echo in her mind when she had asked him months ago about her mother. _"She was a member of the Varden. A powerful ally, who was a spy in the palace, though the King believed her to be a double agent, especially when she fell in love with one of his own men."_

One of the King's own men. Or rather, one of his Riders who had betrayed his kind and slaughtered the dragons. Muirgen felt sick at the very thought of it and was glad that Eragon was tightening his hand around hers.

"I wish that it was to grow more pleasant for you, but I'm afraid that it grows more and more tragic," Angela said solemnly. "You have a healer's hand, born of the woman who raised you, but crossed with magic of the past which was born of your destiny. But I'm afraid, dear child, that your magic will never become absolute. A death looms closer and closer, drawing ever so near. This tragedy will end in heartache, both for you and the lover of the person whose death approaches."

Muirgen took a deep breath, trying to stop the horrified gasp that threatened to escape from her. A death that would cause her great pain . . . who would she lose now? Eragon? Brom? Or someone she had not yet met?

"Who?" she asked, her voice shaking.

"I'm not sure. But it is unavoidable. No matter what you do, no matter what you attempt, his fate is to leave this world." Angela frowned. "Upon this person's death, you shall be captured by the ones who wish to control you. It is here that you will be forced to deny one of your parents. Reject your mother and everything she stood for, if you will . . . or disown your father and everything that he thirsted for. It may not be by your own will, however. You may be forced to choose a path to save those you love."

Staring at Angela, Muirgen understood what she meant. As much as she hated the thought of serving the King, if it meant that she would keep her friends from harm, she would do it. If it meant saving those that she loved, she would do it. Even if it meant casting herself off from everything she hoped for, everything that she _dreamt_ of.

"Now, let us move on to happier thoughts," Angela said with a small smile. "There is a man that you love. A man pure of heart and great leadership, but he is of great power, greater than your own. His heritage is similar to yours, yet he may be unaware of it. But you will follow him to wherever he may go and if his destiny takes him away, then you will go with him, to follow him to the ends of the earth and beyond. It is unclear if this man will take you from Alagaesia, but you shall love this man as you have never loved anyone else. When you are within the darkness and facing your mortal enemies, he shall be your light in the darkness."

Muirgen glanced sideways at Eragon. Was it possible? she wondered. Was Eragon, the son of Selena and who had no known father, the same as her? Someone who had evil lying within their blood, but didn't know it?

"There is one more thing," Angela said softly. "A member of your family still lives. She waits for your return to the people that you have no knowledge of. When you discover who you truly are, and who your mother was, she will embrace you as the daughter of Celandine. She guides you now, as she waits for your return."

"Who?" Muirgen was puzzled, but she knew who exactly it was that Angela spoke of. The voices.

"I do not know," Angela answered. "She is clouded in mystery." She studied the bones once more, scanning them closely. "One thing is clear, you will find her in the place that you will never have expected. But your guide will help you and your man in the place of absolute darkness."

Angela paused, removing her gaze from the bones, leaning back in her chair, studying the pair of them. "What I wouldn't give," she said dryly, "to see how your futures play out. There are very few penniless young men who can expect to be loved by a noblewoman. And very few young girls," she added, "have such a destiny that could go either way, good or evil. Who are you two?"

Muirgen was about to tell her Moira and Evan, but Eragon beat her to it. "Eragon and Muirgen."

Shooting him a dirty look, Muirgen made a mental note to throttle him later as Angela frowned slightly. "Are those who you are or your names?"

A small giggle escaped from Muirgen as she realised what Angela meant by that. Eragon, the first elf Rider, had been married to a female Rider who had been named Muirgen.

"I'll tell you later," she said when Eragon gave her a strange look. "And it's sort of both," she added to Angela. "Thank you for the readings, but we really should be going."

"Anytime," Angela said with a smile as the two Riders exited the herbalist's quickly.

--

_Darkness. That was all she could see as she parried the sword left and right, managing to down to of her enemies. There were thousands of Urgals and Ra'zac, so many that she could barely even count. They were like swarms of insects, crowding around to capture or kill their prey. _

_"Diathí!" she cried. "Diathí, I need you." _Where are you, friend? Can't you hear me?

_A mighty roar echoed throughout the scene and the enemies scattered to throw their attacks towards the new arrival, fearful of it and rightfully so. She screamed a warning just as a—_

With a gasp, Muirgen woke, sitting up straight as she looked around the room that she was staying in, green eyes wide. Once she realised that she was alone and that the scene in front of her was an empty bedroom, not a battle scene, she relaxed, falling back onto the pillow. But she still was breathing more heavily than she was used to.

"What is going on with me?" she mumbled as she turned onto her side. Stretching her mind out to Diathí, she could sense him, but he was too far away for him to contact her. And his mind was on something else anyway. Muirgen had a vague feeling that the two dragons were doing something that was not at all appropriate for all ages.

But at least he was safe. That dream had put a chill on her heart when she thought about its contents. For all she knew, the dream could be very real and that terrified her.

"Mother, why in the name of Alagaesia did you send us here?" she whispered quietly. "Was the reading everything that you wanted to show me? Or is there something more?"

But as always whenever she tried to speak to her long-dead mother, there was only silence. Celandine's ghost had no intention of helping her daughter with this venture.

_You must leave soon, daughter of Celandine. _The voices, which had been silent so far since arriving in Teirm, now echoed in her mind. _Danger is starting to approach you and your companions. You have delayed too long already by staying in Teirm. When leaving, you will learn the secret that may define your past . . . and your future._

_But what? What more do I have to learn? I already know that a death approaches and that one way or another, I will save this place or doom it for all eternity. What more could I possibly learn? _

_You ask questions where you should be seeking facts. The truth always comes to us when we are ready to hear it. _

_I am ready!_

The voices grew still and Muirgen wondered if she had angered them, but then they spoke again. For the longest time, it had been flat and emotionless, but this time, the voices were kind and gentle. _You will never be ready, until you can answer this: of what are you afraid of? _

_I'm not afraid!_ Muirgen retorted, but their words put a chill on her heart. How much had they seen in her?

_You need not fear us, daughter of Celandine. But you need not answer that question for yourself. It is not us that demands the answer. When you are ready, you will find the answers._

_Ready for what?_

_When you can answer that question for yourself, you will be ready. _That was all the voices said. _Now hurry, leave Teirm. The answers you seeks are close in waiting and far away. When you understand we mean you no harm and who we are, then we will be waiting for you. _Their voices grew still and silent.

Muirgen felt her heart skip a beat and then it proceeded to its normal rhythm. And she had learned one thing from her conversation with the voices.

Everything was about to change again.


End file.
